


Rules and Regulations: A Guide to Romance Out in the Wild (Don't Look a Gift Horse in the Mouth)

by ohmygoshwhatascream



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: A bit of angst just sprinkled in, Crack, Flowers, Fluff, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Hopeless Romantic Jaskier, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, M/M, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Soft Jaskier | Dandelion, depictions of injuries, jaskier waxes poetry about geralts arse, nothing too graphic, the horse is a metaphor for love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:00:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22434550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmygoshwhatascream/pseuds/ohmygoshwhatascream
Summary: "Touch Roach and I'll kill you."Jaskier gulps, hands raised as he steps back. At first, Geralt does not trust him; not one bit.But, gradually, that begins to change. Jaskier knows it's dangerous, knows that what he so dearly wants can only end in heartbreak, but he is drawn to Geralt. He can't quit it and he follows behind, waiting for the day when Geralt will inevitably tire of his irritating ways and leave him for bigger and better things.Except; that day never comes and, if Jaskier was being hopeful, he'd even say Geralt enjoys his company.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 68
Kudos: 1328





	Rules and Regulations: A Guide to Romance Out in the Wild (Don't Look a Gift Horse in the Mouth)

**Author's Note:**

> Back again with more Geraskier. I have no idea what I'm doing but I've got so many fuckin feelings about these two and, like, I just goota write stuff for them.
> 
> Also I loved the idea of Geralt literally just... not letting Jaskier go anywhere near Roach, like, at all. It'd ridiculous and impractical af but... like, it's also a mad vibe tbh.

Jaskier, back in the days when he and Geralt had only just met, had been faced with one very clear rule. _Don't touch Roach._

Sure, there had been other 'rules' (if they can be called such a thing) when travelling with Geralt. Things like, don't sing when they're searching for a monster that detects its prey through sound; or don't talk when there's nothing that needs to be said. Pretty standard stuff, really. Some of the 'rules' Jaskier doesn't quite follow. (He adamantly argues that _everything_ he says is of high importance. It's not _his_ fault that Geralt doesn't appreciate the twittering of birds in the trees or the first star alight at night. That's a 'Geralt issue', and it's got nothing to do with him) And some rules, Jaskier does adhere to. Usually the ones made to avoid what would otherwise be certain death, like 'don't eat those weird berries you found'. (Although Jaskier resents that Geralt felt the need to tell him this as if he _wouldn't_ know that berries are poisonous. Like, Jaskier knows he's not the most suited for this rough life on the open roads, but he's not _that_ moronic)

There were many of these 'rules', and many would go unspoken; for some of them, by technicality, weren't really 'rules', they were more… guidelines. _Basic 101; learning to survive in the wilderness when you're useless with a weapon and you annoy the only person willing to put up with your shit._

They were also common-sense, most of them. Jaskier would have done a lot of them anyway, just because he actually quite likes his life right now and he really doesn't want to end up as some beast's lunch, thank you very much. Also, he _really_ doesn't want to die of some dumb shit that'll make him a mockery even in death. He's got his heart set on going out like a goddamn _hero,_ and dying from dysentery or some shit doesn't really appeal to him all that much.

So he understands those rules. He gets why they're there, he gets why they exist (even if he doesn't necessarily agree with all of them. 'No singing' had been one, at the beginning. That rule hadn't lasted long, much to Geralt's chagrin) but he just doesn't _understand_ the whole deal with Roach. Like, at all. As in, he gets the whole 'I am a lone wolf and only my horse keeps me company' kinda vibe Geralt has going on. It's bringing antisocial to new levels that Jaskier didn't even think were possible, and Jaskier can respect that. It's Geralt's _thing,_ part of his mystery and danger. (It's a good look, Jaskier thinks. Strangely attractive)

Jaskier can see why he's not allowed to ride Roach. _That_ makes sense. It's Geralt's horse and, in all honesty, Jaskier doesn't even think Roach would _let_ him sit in the saddle in the first place. And if he were to ride Roach, he'd have to sit behind Geralt and put his arms around his waist, you know; so he doesn't fall off. No ulterior motives there. Maybe he'll hold on extra tight, head resting on Geralt's shoulder and the line of his body pushed against that muscular back… he can see it now, the two of them together. Jaskier's hands in Geralt's lap, against his straddled thighs, ( _oh god._ Jaskier could write _sonnets_ about Geralt's thighs. Jaskier could write sonnets about _all_ of Geralt, if he's being completely honest, but his thighs… _damn_ ) and they'd be pushed up against one another, no space between them… riding out over the horizon, into the sky alight under the setting sun. (He might have imagined that scenario one too many times. But how could he not? It's an _intimate_ thing, sharing a horse. Or it's intimate in Jaskier's Brilliant World of Romantic Endeavours, which also consists of things such as 'huddling for warmth', something he's been trying to make a possibility for _months,_ and 'prolonged glances that speak of unspoken love and intimacy' which might be a bit specific, but _wow_ , shit like that is the _dream_ )

So Jaskier gets the whole not riding Roach deal. In fact, it's probably for the best. 

But not being able to even _touch_ Roach is a bit excessive.

Jaskier likes animals. He's an animal kind of guy. Not, like, bears and crocodiles and shit. But _soft_ animals, _friendly_ animals. Ones that won't try to eat him, basically. He also likes, when the opportunity arises, stroking said animals. They like it too. Animals _like_ being stroked, usually. So when Jaskier went to pat Roach's flank in a show of good camaraderie, why did Geralt _literally threaten to kill him?_ As a connoisseur of all things 'dramatic', Jaskier had levelled that experience as 'a bit too far'. Like, the whole threat on his life was a bit overkill. Kind of made Jaskier want to stroke Roach again, to be honest. But Geralt was giving him a _look,_ like he knew exactly what Jaskier was thinking, and Jaskier honestly didn't want to risk it. He'd already been punched in the jewels, he didn't know how much more abuse his body could take.

To be fair, though, Roach _is_ Geralt's horse. Maybe she doesn't like being touched, especially by near-strangers. Maybe she'd have tried to, like, eat his hand or some shit if he'd actually touched her. Geralt is a weird guy, his horse probably is, too.

Also, Jaskier doesn't like the way Roach looks at him. He'd brought it up to Geralt once and his lips had twitched (a movement that Jaskier has surmised is a smile) and he'd told Jaskier that he was being an idiot, making things up. But Jaskier swears that horse looks at him funny. She looks at him like he's… a _pest!_ Jaskier thinks Roach doesn't like him very much. He thinks, if given the opportunity, she'd kick him in the head. Multiple times. And then spit on him, or do something horse-ish and gross, just to prove how much she doesn't like him.

Actually, she kinda looks at him like Geralt does. _Like pet, like owner,_ Jaskier thinks with equal levels of amusement and fear. He probably shouldn't piss either of them off. There's another rule he can add to the book. _Don't piss off the person who's already saved your life, like, eight separate times._

So maybe the whole 'no touching Roach' thing is a good idea. 

x

Jaskier's been around for a while, now. Geralt's resigned to the fact that he is now seemingly permanently attached; he's not showing any signs of leaving any time soon, and - if Jaskier didn't know any better - he honestly thinks that Geralt might _enjoy_ having him around now. And Roach, too.

It's quite nice. whatever they've got going on. Jaskier has been decidedly ignoring whatever the fuck his heart does whenever Geralt does _anything,_ because at this point Jaskier is more than used to his… infatuation to others. However, there is now a _slight_ problem.

Jaskier falls in love quickly and easily. He gives away pieces of himself to all those around them, swept up in dreams and desires and always with a soaring heart. He's a romantic, he finds light within all those he meets and he feels drawn to lingering gazes and intimate touches. Unlike Geralt, he has always worn his emotions plainly on his sleeve. _Effeminate_ , he had been called by the brutish men who frequented pubs and inns. Not that it bothers him, he still doesn't see how having emotions makes him more womanly, maybe _content and healthy_ would be a better way to put it. _Emotionally stable._ Regardless, whatever morons might think of him for _having feelings_ is irrelevant _,_ what matters is that Jaskier falls in love very quickly with all sorts of people, and he doesn't do it halfheartedly; when he falls, he falls _hard._ He had known that, at some point, he would fall madly in love with Geralt. It was expected, inevitable really. Geralt is just… very attractive, and they're spending almost every second of each day with one another and Geralt saves Jaskier's life on a daily basis so _how could he not fall in love?_ Jaskier's fallen in love with lesser men and women, certainly. 

So being in love wasn't the problem. He'd planned for this, he knew it would happen and he'd been prepared.

But he hadn't fallen _out_ of love yet, and that is where the true problem lies.

You see, Jaskier falls in and out of love with ease. Some people he loves for a few days, some longer, some shorter. It is… peculiar. Not what one may consider 'normal'. But he truly does love all those who he sleeps with. He gets his reputation as a womaniser, a typical horny bard who just wants to sing songs and whip his cock out to anyone who'll have him. That's… not true. He's hopelessly romantic, hopelessly sentimental. He can see the appeal of a mindless shag, but he _can't do that._ There's always a connection, a love for those he pleasures. It may be fleeting and it may soon disappear, but he _loved_ them. 

But with Geralt, this whole 'being in love' deal has been going on for _months_ now, and it doesn't show any signs of stopping. 

It's a problem. It's already affected his sex life. It feels _dirty_ now, when he tries to sleep with others. Immoral, like he's cheating or something, which is insane because Geralt still won't let him touch his damn horse so the chance of Geralt actually liking him back is pretty much non-existent. But that's how it is now. He can't fuck people he doesn't love and he's already got his heart set on heartbreak. At least he can still have a wank, but even then all he's thinking about is how much better it would be if Geralt would just _fucking ravish him._ Like, Geralt's got those big, rough, _calloused_ hands and those same goddamn glorious hands wrapped around his cock have been the focus of multiple sordid dreams as of late.

He's _lovesick,_ he realises one morning, watching Geralt brush through the tangled hair of Roach's mane. He's fallen madly in love with someone who he can't have.

He writes a lot more songs now that he's with Geralt. Not just the adventuring sort, either.

They become crooning love ballads, of unrequited matters of the heart. He's getting a lot of experience with that sort of thing, after all. 

Geralt looks at him strangely sometimes, when he sings those sorts of songs. Jaskier ignores him and desperately hopes his love goes away soon. He knows it's going to end in heartbreak.

He knows it, yet he can't stop.

x

Jaskier had always imagined that the first time he'd be allowed to touch Roach would be, like, some grand moment of realisation where Geralt would come to the conclusion that Jaskier was an amazing companion and all-around brilliant guy, or something. Jaskier doesn't really know. He'd been thinking about the milestone, not the reasons behind it.

What he's trying to get at is he'd always thought getting to touch Roach would be a big deal.

He didn't think he'd just completely skip that step and for his first genuine contact with Roach to be him _riding_ her.

Nor did he think it would be under these circumstances, with his body slumped against Geralt's and his mouth dripping with blood.

He'd gotten in the way of a fight, caught the monster's attention and then been too slow to leap out of the way when it had come for him. Claws had got his sides, three long vertical gashes sliced atop his ribs.

He's lucky it was his sides. Had it been closer to his front… Well, Jaskier likes his insides where they are just fine. He'd rather not see his heart… _outside his body._

But Geralt let out a yell, a strangled tone that Jaskier had never heard him use before. Panicked, it had sounded. Fearful.

Without pausing for even a moment, Geralt had slain the monster with a fire Jaskier had never seen before. There was something about his movements then, the swing of his sword and the sureness of his actions. Fury, pure anger boiled over into something that was almost feral. 

Yet, once the monster had been hacked to pieces, limbs sawn off and innards strewed out over the ground, Geralt had quickly ran to him. His eyes were still that wild black, pupils enlarged and breaths ragged and deep. Then, with a tenderness he rarely showed, he had lifted Jaskier up in his arms, large hands applying pressure to the bleeding wound. Jaskier had been in a lot of pain, barely coherent to the world around him, but there was still enough life left in him for him to just think _oh wow, he's actually got me in his arms._

Had he been in a better condition, he might have taken more time to appreciate the situation properly. Geralt was _very_ muscular. Obviously. And Jaskier had always been one to appreciate such a thing. Geralt was ridiculously attractive, after all, and Jaskeir was still hopelessly in love with him. 

Geralt was warm too. And he smelled nice. 

Well, actually, that's a lie. He smelt like absolute shit, but Jaskier kind of liked it. Like, yeah, he fucking _stank_ of monster guts and rotten blood and dirt and grime and god knows what else, but _underneath_ all that, he smelt good. Like pine trees and woodsmoke. Of the outdoors and then something else. Something deep and unnameable, a scent that was just _Geralt._ There was no other way to describe it.

It was nice. As in, if you take out the whole 'literally might die' part of it, then Jaskier was quite enjoying himself held in those strong arms.

And then Geralt manhandled him onto Roach. 

"You let me touch Roach" He whispers out, words muffled in Geralt's back. He lets out a breathy laugh, one that jostles his sides and cuts him off in a hiss. There's a shift in the muscles of Geralt's back. Jaskier can feel the movement against his cheek. It's as if Geralt is relaxing at the sound of Jaskier's voice, as if that voice is confirmation that he's okay, that he's going to survive.

Geralt's voice rumbles back only a few moments later, exasperated. "Doesn't count. You were dying."

x

The injuries take a while to heal and Jaskier finds himself bound to the bed of an old inn for the next few weeks.

He half expects Geralt to leave him here. To leave and return to his duties as Witcher; why would he stick around for some useless old bard? He has things to do, places to go, people to save, monsters to slay. He shouldn't be _here,_ wasting his time with an idiot who still can't figure out how to use a sword. 

But he doesn't. He stays.

Sure, there a brief periods when he's gone - moments where their cash runs low and he'll go and fight something (there's always something to fight. More and more monsters are cropping up everywhere) to bring in some extra coin, but for the most part, he stays near enough Jaksier's side. A silent companion, comforting in a way that Jaskier's bleary mind can't quite show his gratitude for. 

They're lucky enough that the owners of the inn are of the generous sort. They're letting them stay here for near enough free. It was them who had asked Geralt to kill that monster, of course, so there's also that. They probably feel guilty. 

It's easier to have no empathy for a Witcher, but a Witcher Jaskier is not. People always care more when it's someone of their own kind who's hurt. Maybe it makes it more real, more painful. As though when it's happening to someone else who isn't like you, it's easier to pretend it isn't happening at all.

Either way, whatever their motive was behind their kindness, there's no doubting that Jaskier is eternally grateful for their hospitality. Had they been given nowhere to stay… the wounds could have very easily gotten infected and Jaskier doesn't know if he'd have made it through that alive.

But there is no need to think of such things, for he is here now and he is _okay._ He will be back to his normal self in a few more days and they can return to the open road. He'll even get his first set of _proper_ scars, a token of adventure. Maybe he should write a song about it. That was, after all, his reasons behind travelling with Geralt. He misses his music. His lute had been saved, somehow; he was in far too much pain to remember all the details of that night but when he'd woken up his dear instrument had been beside him, resting against the bed. He can't play it now, not just yet. He still can't sit up properly for fear of disturbing the stitches in his sides, and even if he could, he doesn't know if he could even hold the lute properly, let alone play it,

He has to content himself with humming, making his own little tunes up and hoping that he can remember each and every note once he can play once more. 

But there are issues more pressing than that of his music. _Geralt._ If Jaskier were being hopeful he'd have said that Geralt had been… worried about him. Very much so, in fact.

He'd been _dithering,_ of all things. Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf himself, dithering about a scrawny little human who couldn't even hold a sword. There was something bizarrely comical about the whole situation. This absolute _mountain_ of a man, who was literally made of every single manly stereotype Jaskier could possibly think of, was pottering about him like a worried mother hen.

It's quite nice, actually. 

It's nice to know that somebody cares. 

He fills his days with mindless chatter, now. Speaking to Geralt of nothing much, unimportant things like stories and myths and legends he has heard about. There's a lot to talk about, he's a _bard_ , he's literally made of stories. 

He speaks of the stars at one point, telling an old wife's tale he'd heard about constellations and fate and destiny. It's a load of shit, really, Jaskier doesn't believe that their lives are already preset for them. He likes to think that he can make a difference, that he isn't doomed to live out a story already written for him. He hopes destiny isn't real, because the thought that nothing he does matters, the thought that everything that will ever happen has already been determined and there is nothing he can do to change that… well, the thought of that is terrifying.

Then he worries that, if destiny does truly exist, that his destiny is heartbreak. He doesn't want that. He wants so much more. He wants-

He looks at Geralt, who's watching him with a gentle fondness in his eyes. It's the way that Geralt looks at him a lot, with increasing frequency now. It's an expression that - if Jaskier had been standing - would have made him weak at the knees. For all his hard edges and solitary ways, Geralt is much softer than one might think. There's a kindness underneath that battle-weary outer shell. He's gentle, Geralt is, and it's moments like these when Jaskier is made truly aware of that fact.

_He's so in love. He's too far gone to ever think about coming back. Maybe it's doomed to fail and maybe he'll never get what he wants, but if Geralt keeps looking at him like that, then maybe everything will be alright in the end._

Maybe it's the fact that he nearly died that's bringing all this up, or maybe Jaskier is somehow more of a hopeless romantic than he originally thought, but he realises that he can't keep holding out for luck and coincidences.

They had gotten him this far, sure. But he couldn't rely on good fortune for the rest of his days. He has choices, decisions. Things that he must do, things that he must say. He'd been convinced that his life was doomed for heartbreak, but _maybe_ that wasn't true. There were other options, other paths that he could follow. He just has to take that first step, make the jump.

He's standing on the edge of a cliff, wind rushing through his hair. He can't see the bottom, he doesn't know what's down there. But nothing will ever change if he doesn't make that leap. He has to be brave, he has to-

He closes his eyes and he jumps. 

Geralt is watching him, that fondness still in his eyes. That softness about his mouth. Jaskier is falling. He's been falling for aeons, and yet...

He smiles at Geralt, just because he can. The wind rushes past him, he's hurtling down and down into the nothingness below. Geralt looks surprised, a bit uncertain. He's falling and there's no end to it-

And then, almost imperceptibly, Geralt's lips twitch up at the edges.

And Jaskier soars. 

x

Only a few days later, Jaskier is able to walk around once more. It still hurts like a bitch, but now it's more of a dull ache than absolute agony. Of course, that hasn't stopped him from complaining loudly to anyone who looks at him. And if he embellishes the story of his injury a bit, who is anyone else to judge? He could have _died_ back there, there's nothing wrong with making the whole experience a bit more… heroic-sounding. 

Geralt is out at the moment. Gone off on another little task. Jaskier doesn't quite know what, but he does know that he left Roach behind.

Roach had gotten injured along with Jaskier. Done something to the muscles in one of her legs; she'd been pushed too hard and too fast. Galloping at breakneck speed back to the village, Jaskier growing limp on her back and Geralt urging her forwards, faster. She was perfectly fine now, completely healed and as strong as ever, but Geralt seemed to be reluctant to take her out with him unless it was absolutely necessary. 

Jaskier can't help but feel a tiny bit guilty about the whole thing. Not too guilty, because he was, like, _dying;_ but still. (Although there's something quite nice about the fact that they both pushed themselves to extremes to get him to see a healer. Even with Geralt as her rider, Roach is a stubborn horse. She wouldn't have gone so fast if she hadn't wanted to. He _knew_ he'd eventually win that damn horse over, even if he's - according to Geralt's definition of 'what counts' - still not actually touched her yet)

 _That_ had to count for something.

But Jaskier wants to do something nice for the horse. He might buy her some apples or something. Horses like apples, right? Whatever, he'll figure it out.

He just wants to do something, anything, to feel like he's useful again. He'd eventually felt well enough to play his lute once more, but he'd like to be doing something more than just trying to prance about, failing at that, and then hobbling about slowly like an old man. (He's injured, he's allowed to lose some of that dramatic flair. He'll have it back soon enough)

He buys the apples. They're cheap, at the height of their season and there's almost too many about the village right now (not that anyone would ever complain about a surplus of food, though) and people don't really know what to do with them all. They were practically giving them away.

As he returns to the inn, a multitude of apples bundled in his arms, Geralt is just getting back.

Jaskier goes to jog up to him, winces, and then slowly hobbles. Geralt's lips twitch in amusement. 

Jaskier holds up the apples like a peace offering. "Apples!" He says, like an _idiot._ Geralt's lips twitch again. "Hmm. I can see." And then he just _looks_ at Jaskier in a way that he finds so ridiculously endearing and his legs really do go weak this time. His brain can't even come up with anything to say, and he stands there like a fool for a few beats, mouth open and no words coming out. "Roach." He eventually chokes out, eyes still trained on the slight curve of Geralt's lips. "The apples. For Roach." 

Fucking hell. He can't even speak. He's… _God,_ he's fucked. Geralt's still looking at him like _that_ and all Jaskier can focus on is the wild thumping of his heart. He'd known he was in love but _this_ is ridiculous. He can't even function properly anymore! 

"You can give them to her." 

Jaskier freezes. "Wait. I can… touch her?" Geralt raises an eyebrow, making a huffing sort of sound that Jaskier has come to identify as laughter. Jaskier's legs turn boneless. "Oh wow. This is a _big deal_ , Geralt. I can- you're actually letting me give her apples? Oh, I always knew you liked me. And you can't say this one doesn't count! Look how-"

"Jaskier." Geralt cuts him off. "I can change my mind, you know."

Jaskier dampens. "Oh. Right." He clears his throat, looking sheepish and averting his eyes downwards. Geralt makes the huffing noise again, before turning around and entering the inn.

Jaskier stands there for a moment, mouth slightly agape and eyes drawn to the way the muscles in Geralt's absolutely glorious arse moves as he walks. (He's got a wonderful arse. Truly one of the most magnificent behinds Jaskier has ever seen) He comes to his senses only a few moments later, head shaking as if he can dispel all the thoughts of the sorts of things he'd like to do with that arse, if the opportunity ever arose.

"I can still give Roach the apples then, right?" He asks to absolutely nobody. The air around him is silent. No reply. 

He jumps a little bit in glee, before remembering his injury with a hiss. The apples tumble from his arms and with a curse he stumbles to pick them all up.

x

Once they return once more to the open road, Jaskier finds himself aware of a… _shift_ in his and Geralt's relationship.

Winter is ending now and the brightness of spring has arrived. Geralt looks at Jaskier with a fondness in his eyes and, although no words are spoken, there is something new blossoming between the two of them.

It is on one spring morning, where the air was chilly but the sunlight warm, when Jaskier makes another decision.

They've been traversing through woodland for the past few days, but not the _usual_ kind of woodland. Not the dark and dreary and monster-inhabited forests that reeked of doom and gloom. No, there was something quite magical about this forest. Maybe it was just natural to find beauty in the aftermath of cruel winter, or maybe the universe was making up for all the _shit_ it had been throwing at them for months on end. 

But one night, as they prepare to set up camp and rest, they find themselves in a small glade. The scene is idyllic, as if it's risen straight from a storybook; the entire place feels disconnected, as though it isn't really a piece of the real world. 

There's a river rushing nearby, too. Which means Jaskier and (with some convincing) Geralt can eventually wash away days worth of grime and dirt, eventually just _feel_ clean and nice and not smell like utter shit.

It is when Jaskier returns to the glade, Geralt still working out the myriad of guts and blood that's matted his thick hair, that he gets an idea.

The glade is covered in flowers. Flowers that Jaskier can name, bluebells and snowdrops and daffodils. More, too. The bright yellow blossoms of lesser celandine swirl around the gnarled roots of trees. Gentle lilac, that of coralroot blossoms, peek out from betwixt tall ferns and long grass. Jaskier even spots some lily-of-the-valley, their long stems snaking up beside the shrubbery and their white blossoms almost luminescent under the twilight glow.

He plucks them from the ground, collecting a bouquet of wildflowers, swathes of blues and whites and yellows and pinks bundled in his hands.

When Geralt returns, it is to the sight of Jaskier stood with Roach. Geralt watches them for a moment. Sees the slender line of Jaskier's hands, long and thin and delicate, carefully weaving strands of brightly coloured flowers between Roach's mane. With deft practice, Jaskier twists Roach's sleek main into delicate braids, dispersing flashes of colour between the golden hair.

Geralt looks at Jaskier, truly _looks_ at him. There's a softness to his cheeks, the curve of his jawline and the angles of his cheekbones. Tawny hair, drying in soft curls below his ears, blue eyes lined with dark eyelashes that create shadows over his cheeks.

Geralt watches him in the twilight. The haze of golden sunset setting Jaskier alight like a burning flame. He glows from within, a spark of _goodness_ in a world where monsters roam wild.

Jaskier turns around to look at him, hands still weaving patterns into Roach's mane. Geralt's skin feels hot. Jaskier looks at him like he _knows_ exactly what Geralt was thinking and it makes something _burn_ in Geralt's chest.

There's an intenseness to Geralt's gaze as he looks at the bundle of flowers, Jaskier's deft fingers in Roach's hair.

In jest, Jaskier grins, shifting his weight onto one leg, hip cocked. "Do you want me to braid flowers into your hair too?" He laughs with a wink.

"Yes." 

Jaskier splutters, face flushing red.

x

Jaskier stares dubiously at the hand held out before him, brows furrowing and bottom lip tethered between his teeth. He looks up at Geralt's face, as blank as ever, and then looks back down at Geralt's outstretched hand. 

"You… you're letting me ride Roach?" 

Geralt sighs, obviously exasperated, but there's a softness in his eyes that betray a hidden fondness. "Yes." 

Jaskier gasps, hand rising to his mouth. "Really? You're sure about this? You're actually letting me ride Roach? I'm not even dying this time! I-"

"Just get on the fucking horse." 

With a mock-scowl and a faux gasp of protest, Jaskier takes that hand. He lets himself be hauled up and, with a true, genuine smile, he wraps his arms around Geralt's middle. 

Roach moves to a canter and Jaskier sings loud and clear, lute still strapped to his back but his voice dipping and soaring amongst the endless sky.

He sings of love; of happiness and friendship and safety. He sings of hidden smiles and fond eyes, of flowers woven in hair and sleeping under a starlit sky.

He sings in tunes, ones that become familiar, repeating melody that he follows to wherever it takes him, lyrics picked out of thin air and his voice soaring to what feels right.

Then, ever so quietly, almost so quietly that a less observant man might have missed it, a low hum joins in. It's deep, hesitant, slightly off-key. It's perfect.

Jaskier tightens his arms about Geralt, smiling so wide his cheeks ache. 

x

Jaskier looks up at Geralt with lidded eyes. His cheeks are flushed, lips swollen and breath coming in needy gasps. "I've ridden Roach now." He whispers against Geralt's skin, teeth nipping at a patch of uneven scars. "Does that mean that next I get to ride you?" Jaskier says, trying desperately to hide the grin spreading across his face. He fails miserably, giggling into the dip of Geralt's collarbone.

"Stop talking." Geralt rumbles, low and deep and _oh god_ Jaskier can feel it in his chest, against his fingers and the noise sends tingles down his spine.

"Oh, you should know by now that I never stop talking." Jaskier laughs, voice slightly breathless. His hands trace the hardened muscle of Geralt's stomach and he revels in the feeling of Geralt's bare skin against his own, groaning deep as his mouth rises upwards, open-mouthed kisses pressing against the line of Geralt's neck, up to his jaw.

Geralt rumbles again, urging something deep and primal within Jaskier. "I'll shut you up." Geralt grits out, voice deep and husky and laced with thinly disguised _want_ that makes Jaskier's heart stop in his chest.

"Is that a threat?" He responds and is silenced with a kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> This is mad, like. I've been posting stuff on Ao3 for almost two years now but I've never been in a... popular fandom. To go from averaging at about 200 hits per fic to then reach that same amount in less than an hour was insane. Of course, now I feel more pressure to produce something halfway decent because, oh wow, people are actually gonna read this.
> 
> Feedback is appreciated, as well as any constructive criticism! Thank you so much to anyone who reads this, and I hope you enjoy x :))))))


End file.
